Brooklyn Baby | Spot Conlon ¹

Chp. 3: The World Will Know

"Take any detours last night?" Race asks me, tugging on his cap. I finish brushing my hair, and look at him in the slightly cracked mirror. It got that way 'cause he was trying to play darts. Who said he had any aim?

"Nah, it was already dark, and I was tired. Can't promise I won't hit up Harlem tonight," I tease. I knew the boys out in Harlem. Skiddy, the Harlem newsies leader, and I go way back.

"Let's go find Jackie, he's probably waitin' on us." I say, pulling on my cap and walking out to the fresh air. We bid goodbye to Kloppmann, and head to where the other newsies were. They looked pretty angry.

"Kenny, Race! They jacked up the price! Ya hear that? Ten cents a hundred!" Kid Blink exclaims. I gasp silently.

"Nah, I don't believe it." I say.

"This'll bust me, I'm barely makin' a living now." Skittery says.

"I'll be back on the streets," Boots says. He's too young, I thought. Some of these kids are as young, or slightly older. Jack and I, we're old enough to handle ourselves, but they ain't.

"It don't make no sense. I mean, all the money Pulitzer's makin', why would he gouge us?" Mush asks glumly.

"He's a tight wad, that's why!" Race shouts.

"Pipe down, I'll go talk to Weasel. It's probably just a gag." Jack speaks, walking over to the counter. He comes back after a moment. "Nah, it's a done deal now."

"Why don't we's just try 'n sell the papes while we still got 'em?" Mush starts for the counter, but I pull him back.

"No. They can't get away with this!"

Les pushes through the newsie crowd, demanding we give Jack room. He was so inspired by Jack, he really looked up to him.

"You's done thinkin' now, Jack?" Race urges.

I stoop down to where Jack was, and whisper to him:

"If we don't sell papes, nobody sells papes. So, nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back to where it was,"

"That's good," He says. I grin. He never really had a way with thinkin' of what to say, but he always was loud enough to say it. "If we don't sell papes, nobody sells papes. So, nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back to where it was,"

"You mean like a strike?" David asks. I look over at him, nodding a hello. He nods back.

"Yeah, a strike!" Jack agrees. The boys look at him like he's got three heads. Or, better yet, like he came from Brooklyn, as Race would say.

"Are you outta ya mind?!" Race asks.

"It's a good idea," Jack defends himself.

"Jack, I was only joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union." David points out. I frown.

"We's a union if we go on strike, ain't we?" I ask. Jack nods.

"No, we're then just a bunch of angry kids. If we got every newsie in New York, maybe, but.."

"Yeah, we'll organize it. We gotta get all the newsies of New York together," Jack declares.

"Jack, this isn't a joke." David says seriously. "You saw what happened to those trolley workers,"

"Exactly. If they don't join us, we soak 'em." I add.

"Come on, you two. Think about this, you can't just rush everyone into this," David pleads. Jack leans against the statue in the Square, and thinks real hard.